


All I Want

by SilverRaven33



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Soft Boys, Songfic, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28007301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRaven33/pseuds/SilverRaven33
Summary: Inspired by Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas Is You, that song that everyone loves to hate, and Dean is no exception. But when a certain angel takes the lyrics literally, this might help change Dean's mind about it, the angel, and maybe Christmas itself.Timeline of about Season 5, Cas has been around for about a year at this point.Yes, I wrote a songfic, kind of. Don't come for me with salt and a Zippo please lol.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Ellen Harvelle/Bobby Singer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	All I Want

Dean flexed his grip around his beloved car’s steering wheel as he drove the Impala through the beginnings of a light snowfall, trying to make Bobby’s by midnight. The rush of another successful hunt and another case closed flowed through his veins, his little brother was safe next to him riding shotgun like always, and their angel pal was chilling in the back seat. Life was good. Now they just needed some road tunes.

He turned up the radio and immediately groaned at what met his ears. 

“It’s barely even December,” he complained to his passengers. “Little early for this crap isn’t it?” The crap that he was referring to was a song called White Christmas, which he’d promptly flipped back off. 

“Not really,” Sam replied unhelpfully. “Normal people like to celebrate holidays, and the Christmas season is kind of a big deal.”

“Shut up,” Dean snarked and changed the radio station. He just had to find some classic rock and he’d be happy.

_ “Rudolph the red nosed reindeer -” _ Flip. 

_ “Feliz navidad -” _ Flip. 

_ “Last Christmas I gave you my heart -” _ Dean growled at this one before he mashed the button again. He couldn’t deal with this. 

“Sam, where the hell is my box of tapes? Cas, you got them back there? I need some real music.” 

“I think they got confiscated when we got arrested last week,” his brother broke the news to him. Oh yeah. Well shit. 

He flipped the station yet again, and oh god, not this one. The almost piercing piano notes that were flooding through his poor Baby...her speakers weren’t meant to play this horrific travesty. 

_ “I...don’t want a lot for Christmas...there is just one…” _ Dean scrambled to change the station again, or better yet just turn the radio off. Silence was preferable to this torture. 

“Dean, don’t!” came a swift plea from the backseat. Only the surprise of hearing such a begging quality coming from that usually gruff voice made Dean pause. 

_ “I don’t care about the presents…” _ that sickeningly sweet voice on the radio sang on unchecked while Dean’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Heh?” he let out, momentarily frozen. 

“I. Like this one,” Castiel said steadily if quietly, as if he knew Dean was going to change the station anyway, because of course he was. He was going to be sick if this song was allowed to play much longer. 

_ “Make my wish come true…” _ the gag worthy lyrics continued, shortly before the bells and the faster piano kicked in.  _ This _ was the Christmas song that the badass look-at-Dean-Winchester-wrong-and-I’ll-smite-your-ass angel of the Lord had taken a shine to? Dean’s fingertips landed on the dial. 

The trench coated dork could like whatever music he wanted, but this was Dean’s car and everyone knew the house rules applied: driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, and backseat tag-a-long gets even less of a say. 

Dean glanced back via the rearview with a withering look on his face, about to throw something scathing, if joking, over his shoulder. His words were paused when the sight of Castiel’s messy almost-black hair moving along with its owner’s head as the angel nodded to the noxious beat met his sight. This wasn’t what kept Dean’s itchy fingers halted, however. 

As long as Castiel had been hanging around with the Winchesters, for almost a year now, Dean didn’t think he’d seen the guy in an actual good mood, much less enough of one to let a smile peek out. He didn’t really think much of it. It’s not like their lives were that cheery, and Cas had proven that he wasn’t exactly someone who could enjoy the little escapes of food, booze, sex, and entertainment like humans could. But here he was, digging this poppiest of pop songs, with a soft smile resting on his strong face. 

Dean supposed letting it play, just this one and just this once, couldn’t hurt anything if it gave the guy a little joy. He watched Cas watch him as the song droned on, which in and of itself was a pretty normal state of affairs by now, those blue eyes kind of haunted him all the time. But there was a lightness to this stare that didn’t demand anything, was just happy to rest on Dean while the hunter drove. 

Maybe it was karma but at least after he’d suffered through the last notes of that thing, Dean found some Zeppelin on another station. Now this he could get with. 

As it turned out, Dean wasn’t going to be able to completely escape Christmas this year. When they got to Bobby’s and more accurately, stumbled into the living room the next day after sleeping off the hunt and long drive, a modest fake evergreen tree stood next to the threadbare couch and amongst the piles of books. Dean was thoroughly taken aback by this apparition in the crusty if well-meaning hunter’s house. Until he wandered into the kitchen and found Ellen scrambling eggs. 

“Hey kid,” she greeted him, tossing a smile his way while she poured the eggs into a frying pan. Dean watched as Bobby stood too close to her, laying bacon down in another pan. He gave them a grin and a groggy good morning before heading to the coffee maker. This was good, he mused, they both needed somebody. 

Suddenly, as always, right after he’d poured a mug full, Cas appeared beside him, having been alerted through whatever bond that the angel insisted they shared that Dean was awake. The hunter had long since gotten used to Cas popping up and getting in his personal space; it was just part of life now, like his shadow. Except Cas was a lot more solid and warm than a shadow. 

“Hi Dean,” a sweet voice piped up, and Dean turned to see Jo in the doorway of the kitchen. He gave the girl one of his rare genuine smiles and moved to wrap her in a hug. She was so little but so strong. 

“Hi Castiel,” Jo said more stiffly after stepping away from the hug. The angel nodded at her in what Dean knew was a friendly manner for him but he didn’t crack a smile. Maybe someday Cas would become less awkward in human interactions. 

It was certainly good to have their small adopted family together, and they all agreed to try not to go on any hunts that would take them far enough away that they couldn't be back by Christmas. Dean bit his tongue at the kitschiness of it all, knowing Sammy wanted this. And sure, maybe the chance to pretend they had a home for a few days wasn’t completely horrible. 

“Did you guys know these things play music?” Cas asked, a touch of wonder in his scratchy voice as he held up the cell phone they’d gotten him recently. 

Sam smiled at Cas, his affection for the awkward angel obvious. 

“Yeah, pretty cool, huh?” he asked him. “At least this way we can listen to the stuff we actually like instead of Dean’s music all the time.” Dean walked in just in time to hear this, having retrieved some beers for everyone gathered in the living room. 

“Hey it’s not my fault you two have no taste,” he shot. “You Enya-loving freaks.” This even got a chuckle out of Bobby. Cas’s brow wrinkled in its usual thoughtful but concerned way when he didn’t understand something.

“It says this song is by a lady named Mariah Carey, though, Dean,” he said seriously. “What’s an Enya?” But no one answered him since he had already tapped the phone’s screen and the strains of a familiar, bubbly Christmas song met all the ears in the room. A loud collective groan rose. 

“Oh c’mon. That’s not even music, I think that was written as a torture device,” Jo said, and Dean reached over to toast their longneck bottles together. He did love this girl’s clever sass. 

“Yeah it’s like taking razor blades to your ear drums,” Ellen cracked as she plopped herself back onto the couch next to Bobby. Dean laughed at this assessment, while out of the corner of his eye he saw Cas’s smile at listening to the song again fade a touch. This made his own grin droop, but the dude had to realize he couldn’t just play this song in good company like this.

“If you really have to listen to that, can you do it somewhere else?” Dean asked, with perhaps more bite in his tone than he’d meant to. The look that he received from Cas turned the mouthful of beer he’d just taken a swig of sour in his mouth. Damn, he hadn’t known the request was going to make the angel look like someone had just kicked his puppy. 

Cas merely nodded wordlessly and drifted out of the room, towards the stairs to presumably enjoy his bad taste in music up there. Dean made his own face grin triumphantly, even as his eyes followed the trench coat moving away. Bobby, Ellen, and Jo were distracted already in a conversation about whether the abominable snowman was actually real, but Sam was staring daggers through Dean. 

“What?” the older Winchester asked his brother. He’d just told Cas to go somewhere else, he could have been meaner about it. Sam just gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d think his little bro had a little crush on that angel, the way he was always being so nice to him. He laughed to himself as he relaxed back into the loveseat and drank his beer.

No matter how much of a smartass or, okay, sometimes just a downright ass, Dean ever was to Castiel, it never seemed to dim how determined the angel was to follow him everywhere. The next day Bobby sent Dean on a supply run and Cas tagged along, maybe for the chance to ride shotgun which he never got to do. Dean was annoyed at first, having rather been wanting to take a solo drive for a change, but then he relaxed into the undemanding companionship. Cas was content to simply be near him most of the time, accepting him as he was, and Dean really couldn’t say that about most people. 

Dean turned the radio on, curious in spite of himself. He knew he’d be able to find Christmas music, that wasn’t even a question, but would he happen to run across...Only two station changes and there it was, albeit halfway over. 

_ “Oh I won’t ask for much this Christmas…” _

Against most of his instincts, Dean stopped searching and twisted the volume dial up, trying not to wince. Sorry, Baby. 

But what Dean could see, while he tried to concentrate on driving, of the corner of those usually stern lips twitching upwards made it sort of worth it. Then the smile that Cas beamed at him when the song ended a minute and a half later made it completely worth it, and Dean grinned back almost shyly, glad no one else was around to witness this chick flick moment. 

Nothing could have prepared Dean for the next moment in his life. As he reached out to once again find something other than Christmas music to listen to, Cas moved suddenly and swiftly towards him, right into his space, too quickly for Dean to anticipate what he was doing. He just knew he felt a quick press of what could only be lips against the hollow of his cheek, done in such haste he would question if it had happened at all if it weren’t for the warm tingle on his skin left behind in the wake of Cas’s subsequent disappearance. 

Afterward, Dean would reflect that it was a wonder he stayed on the road until he could pull the Impala onto the shoulder. Had that angel just kissed him? Cas was weird and awkward and maybe liked him a little too much but…

Dean shook his head so he could concentrate on driving again but he couldn’t tamp down what felt a lot like a blossoming of hope in his chest. He was still glad no one else was around, now so there were no witnesses to the stupid little grin he knew was stuck on his face. 

Cas, unsurprisingly, was not to be seen for the rest of the day. Or all of the next day. No one but Sam questioned Dean about the angel’s absence, and Dean may have snapped at his brother when he did so.

“I didn’t do anything this time!” he deflected, his cheek still carrying the ghost of a tingle. Dean knew better, of course, but it felt like Cas had left another mark on him there for the world to see. 

“I didn’t say you did,” Sam replied haltingly, with some confusion. Whatever. It really wasn’t Dean’s fault Cas had gone MIA. He didn’t think. He hoped not, anyway. 

“I can’t believe I’m friggin doing this,” Dean muttered to himself, shut up in one of Bobby’s spare rooms. A cheap CD player and a freshly unwrapped CD sat next to him on the bed. Dean was not good with technology and he’d be damned if he was going to ask Sam for lessons on how to use his phone for this so he’d had to take another trip into town. He shut his eyes as he hit the play button and the high piano notes greeted him. Stupid song. All of this because of this stupid song. He drew a deep breath. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean spoke to the empty room. “I…” He hadn’t actually thought about what he was going to say. Did you really kiss me? Where are you? I miss you?

“I guess this song isn’t so bad,” he settled on. And what was horrible, is that as he said the words, he realized he meant them. It  _ was _ kind of catchy, if repetitive, though he’d never let anybody know that he had gone to the dark side like this. 

“It’s almost Christmas, Cas,” he said then. “You should be here.” If he had to celebrate the holiday this year, he really didn’t want to do so without the angel. 

Dean blinked and all at once, Castiel was sitting next to him on the bed, on the other side of the CD player. The hunter jumped back a bit in surprise, then his nerves failed him. He’d known he wanted to see the guy again, to make sure Cas wasn’t mad at him, or hurt, or anything else. But he hadn’t counted on what effect the guy’s presence would have on him. 

Cas was regarding him with that stare containing the light that it had the other day when he’d confessed to liking this song. Dean really never had seen eyes so blue, or so deep. 

“Does this mean I’m getting what I want for Christmas?” the angel asked cautiously. Dean, not always the brightest bulb on the string, wrinkled his brow at him. 

“What do you…?” 

Castiel’s answering grin was gentle and bordered on a smirk as he hit the repeat button on the CD player. The song restarted, and Dean could have sworn Cas’s cheeks flushed in spite of his attempt at confidence. When had the dork gotten downright adorable? 

“Listen,” he whispered, so Dean listened, really listened, to the lyrics of the damn song. Cas’s eyes were wide, and there was a tentative hope that Dean had never seen in them, and it was clear, in his quiet way, that the angel’s own nerves were going haywire. Dean especially couldn’t take his gaze off of Cas’s lower lip, that was being bitten in concentration or trepidation at what the human’s reaction would be. It was about the most entrancing thing he may have ever seen. 

By the end of the first chorus, Dean reached over and turned the volume down. His heart was beating in all sorts of weird ways by now, and he’d heard enough. He so was not good at this, not when real emotions were involved. But for Cas...maybe - maybe he could try. 

Feeling like a kid with his first crush, Dean slid his hand across the bedspread towards where Castiel’s was still resting by the CD player. Barely glancing away from the fascinated expression on the angel’s face, he tested dancing his fingertips over Cas’s knuckles. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d held someone’s hand. 

“If the answer’s yes do I get a real kiss?” Dean said with a gentle smirk, needing to fall back on his shamelessly flirty side to gain some solid ground. And he watched Cas light up like a, well, like a Christmas tree. The angel surged forward, clumsily crashing his lips into the human’s, and Dean began to agree that this actually might be the most wonderful time of the year. 

He barely heard Bobby’s unceremonious holler up the stairs after several long minutes, or hours, had passed of learning every curve of Cas’s lips.

“Soup’s on! If you want to eat you’ll get your butt down here! And Ellen made a pie!” Dean drew back enough to nuzzle his nose against the scrub of Cas’s five o’clock shadow, considering. More angel kisses or home baked pie? Cas smiled, bumping his lips into Dean’s once more. 

“You should eat, Dean. You might need your strength later.” A curious twist that had nothing to do with food went through Dean’s belly at this, even though he was sure the guy couldn’t have meant it  _ that _ way; it was much too soon. 

“And I do enjoy watching you eat pie,” Cas added, shy again. 

Dean quickly found out just how sweet, if painfully awkward it was, to hold someone’s hand as he dragged a willing Cas into the kitchen where Ellen was dishing out Bobby’s meatloaf. The surprised sideways glances and the obvious hush that fell over the room when they walked in were not unexpected. And he did give Jo a small apologetic shrug in response to the wistful resignation painted on her face. Dean just didn’t want to spend another second any further from his angel than he had to be. His angel. He was already in love with that phrase. 

His gaze never strayed far from Cas’s face during the meal, taking in the kiss flushed lips, now turned up in an almost permanent smile and the new sparkle in the blue eyes. Suddenly Christmas had just gotten a whole lot more worth celebrating.


End file.
